


the art of running

by justpeachyniall (hellgrl)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Death, Multi, Road Trip, Violence, travelling, who knows where this is going bc i sure dont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellgrl/pseuds/justpeachyniall
Summary: Niall doesn't know where he is going, nor does he know who the girl in the passenger seat is, but it is better than the bloodstain he leaves behind.





	the art of running

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any geographical or historical errors made in this fic as I have not visited all the places mentioned. 
> 
> A big, big thank you to Jenny who is continually motivating me to write. If it weren't for her I'd be more of a procrastinator on this... 
> 
> And big, big love to anyone who takes the time to read this fic. You're all stars. 
> 
> *insert all the usual disclaimers here*

Niall had always had a sixth sense for something going wrong. 

From the time his mum got in a six car pile-up on the M4, to the time his brother, Greg, got in a brawl at school, it was an uncomfortable feeling that settled in every once in awhile. He considered it a strange party trick of his; being able to tell when a situation or a new person in his life was not right. Some considered it the luck of the Irish or sheer dumb luck. Whatever it was to be called, it was commendable, in his career, that he was without any major drama surrounding his life. And it made him powerless for sure, but, Niall used it to be organised and prepared for something to come and fuck up his life haphazardly.

But Niall swore on his life that there was no preparation for this. 

Zayn had sat before him, hands shaking over a mug of hot tea. His eyelids were pink and puffy from a combined weight of crying and a lack of sleep. Zayn didn’t meet their eyes when he spoke. Louis didn’t even take as much as a second-glance at him before he silently strode out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him. The rest of them sat stunned, mouths wide open, with tea mugs firmly grasped by their white knuckles. Niall wanted to say he saw it coming, but he didn’t. They all came to X-Factor as individual acts to pursue a solo career - they had no motivations to turn out the way they did - but Niall thought there was no other choice for them. They grew together, quickly conjoining at the hip and binding as brothers. They all agreed that this was the best thing to ever happen to them and there was no other way they wanted to do this. 

Why did he suddenly change his mind? 

But Zayn had explained this was something that he had in the back of his mind early on; that he knew he would have to leave the band one day. Through the long talks from shitty bunk beds, late-night jamming sessions and inside jokes - was that all just a facade? 

“S’pose I don’t exactly belong,” Zayn had thought aloud. “I don’t fit in with you boys anymore.”

Niall had become just as angry as Louis, but he quietly seethed behind gritted teeth. Through all the painful meetings and horrible contracts, Niall sat there without even a slight curve in his lips. He was usually the one to make these boring aspects of the job much more entertaining, but he couldn’t do it in that moment. How could he when there was an inevitable sense of doom surrounding them? He felt lied to. He felt upset, he felt spiteful, he felt angry and, most of all, he felt betrayed. He felt every emotion that fell under the umbrella of the question: ‘why?’. 

Somehow, compared to the heavy cloud that had weighed down on their shoulders, Zayn’s last concert settled in as if was any other concert. They had almost forgotten that he was leaving and that they all had a bitterness coating their tongue. When ‘Little Things’ came along and Liam proclaimed this was to be their last song, that’s when the bile began raising Niall’s throat. All five of the boys sat on the steps, facing the sea of flashing lights and silhouetted bodies. He distinctly remembered Zayn sitting beside him, his hands shaking as tears began to form in his eyes. Niall noticed Harry wiping his own away in front of him. As they all became more visibly upset, Niall had wanted to wrap his arm around Zayn’s shoulders to comfort him. It was second nature to him to want to comfort anyone in need. But the feeling of anger and sadness had been too overwhelming to reach out to him. He felt as if he didn’t really deserve his kindness. Not anymore.

Maybe his anger towards Zayn was his ‘sixth sense’ making itself known once again, but, regardless, Niall regretted it every passing minute since he heard the first shot.

Niall had felt the momentum of the bullet brush past his shoulder before he could even begin to process what was happening. As the second shot rung out in the arena, Niall had slammed himself on his right side on the step, shielding his head with his arms. Even with his blood pumping loudly in his ears, he could make out the gut-wrenching screams of the fans in the crowd and a tremendous thud to the left of him on the stairs. He doesn’t remember how anyone encouraged him to get up, but Niall had found himself being grappled by two large arms up from the stairs and across to stage right. 

Niall still clearly remembers something that made his heart drop. 

Over the deafening chaos, he could hear his band mates shouting - their voices dripping in despair. It was Zayn. They had been shouting for Zayn. Their security tried their best to bark orders to cover their panic. He could see Harry, Louis and Liam right behind him, scratching and clawing at their guards to let them go back. Niall’s own guard, Basil, used his squared body to to shield him from the scene on stage, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from looking down. It was obvious to Niall, as he vomited at the sight of another person’s blood covering him, that something had gone terribly wrong. 


End file.
